


Lacking Closure

by thorhugs



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, F/M, Gen, Introspection, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 16:10:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorhugs/pseuds/thorhugs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the end of season 2, as Jackson prepares to leave for London. He has much to settle and cope with. Both with the ghost of a nightmare, and the girl who saved him from it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lacking Closure

In the dead of night, Jackson pulled over to the side of the road. After sunrise, he and his parents would be boarding a plane to London. 

Earlier that afternoon, he’d paid his final visit to Derek, proving once again that if someone pissed him off, he wasn’t going to go on a bloody rampage through the streets of a foreign country. He was in control. Just barely. He could feel it, every time he got angry, just under the surface. That desire to just let loose and be rid of the irritation before him. But if McCall could do it, hell if LAHEY could do it, not only would he manage it but be better than they ever were. He left their training grounds with a snide remark and a good riddance. He never had to look at the brooding alpha ever again.

But as he walked toward his car, he felt a faint twist in his stomach. What if he stayed? He was old enough, he could challenge his parent’s decision to take him. He’d told Derek on no uncertain terms would he join the pack. But now faced with truly becoming an omega, not just refusing the pack, but remaining there--NO! He was going to do this on his own. He didn’t NEED a pack, nor did he want one. He didn’t care about the stupid titles that everyone else gave themselves. 

But that evening, he paid his final visit to Lydia. They had dinner together and spent their final night together, just the two of them. She never said it, and tried to hide it. But as they lay in her bed, he could sense her worry. Her fear. It echoed his own.

They’d never said it aloud, never agreed on it, but she was it. His anchor. The one thing that kept him from giving in. That kept him human. That made him strong enough to fight the urge to maim and kill. Without her, could he make it? Could he keep it together? In that moment, in the dark on the deserted road, did he even consider it. Even when he tried to remove her from his life, to move onto what he thought were bigger and better things, she was still there. Still part of his existence. It had been her that brought her back, and her alone. He didn’t have the strength inside himself to do it. Others tried to tell him what he’d become, what he was doing. And even then, he couldn’t hope to stop it. Not until she stepped in.

His fingers gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. She’d brought him back. She would always bring him back. The way she felt for him… 

He pressed his forehead to his hands, and took several, slow breaths. He could still smell her. In his clothes. In his car. Eyes closed, he tried to memorize it. Embed it so deep in his memory that it would never leave him. Even as he felt his cheeks dampen, he just focused on that sense of her. She was the one bright spot in the nightmare of the last several months. And that alone would carry him through, until he could stand on his own. It had to.

Reluctantly, he pushed himself back. There was still one last thing he had to do. He could not leave until he faced it. Another slow, deep breath, his teeth clenched tight. 

Before he could rethink it, he pushed the door open and stepped out of the car. Just ahead, he could see the bridge. A chill passed through unassociated with the breeze rustling the trees along road. 

This is where it happened. He had no conscious memory of it, but he didn’t need to remember. Knowing was bad enough. This is where Gerard drowned Matt. Where Jackson, as the kanima, watched from the shadows, from under that very bridge. Watching as the cruel, corrupt hunter murdered the psychotic, homicidal teenager. And driven by powers out of his control Jackson, the kanima, accepted the maniacal old man as his new master.

Feeling a knot building in the pit of his stomach, he headed down the small embankment. Through the leaves that covered the ground, to the edge of the shallow water. Almost all signs of events weeks passed had been erased. A few footprints in the mud. A scrap of police tape still clinging under the bridge. But nothing else remained.

Anger and fear clawed at him in equal measure. Someone had controlled him. Had commanded him. Forced him. As he stared down at his own reflection, his lip curling in disgust, he could see the blue of his eyes,vibrant and glowing in the dim light. 

“I got what I wanted,” he said to the reflection, his voice tight. “I. Won.” His tone grew unsteady. Forcing his teeth together, he tried to calm himself. He was better than this. “You tried to take it all from me,” he pointed at the water, as if the body were still there. “You hid it from me. You could have TOLD me. You knew. Before anyone else, you knew what was happening to me!” His volume increased as his aggression rose. “You sat there, with that smug face, and all along you KNEW!” He turned away from the water, taking a slow breath. Think of Lydia. Think of the good. Don’t let go.

It didn’t help.

In a sudden burst of rage, he picked up a large stone and hurled it at the water. It splashed, harmlessly, the ripples creating small waves that lapped at his shoes.

“IT WAS ALL YOUR FAULT!” He roared at his distorted reflection.

Only when the surface stilled again did he see himself. The ripples weren’t the only thing that had distorted his face. Staggering back from the image of his own transformed features, he felt it recede under the icy touch of fear. “You ruined everything,” he said, much more quietly, at last directing the accusation at a slightly more accurate target. “And I hope you rot in hell.”

The way he saw it, because of what Matt forced him to do, he’d been exposed. The last people he wanted to know his secrets now held them all. About how he came into this world. About what lay behind the face everyone saw. Of all people, Scott and Stiles knew.

As he made his way back to the car, he didn’t feel any form of closure. But that’s not the reason for his visit here. He needed a reminder. As much as he felt he couldn’t leave Lydia behind, he needed to. He had to start again. Everywhere he turned, there seemed to be reminders. He saw pity in the faces of people who should hate him. Whether or not it was actually there, he still saw it. The empty house across the street, the catalyst for it all--where Matt suffered his trauma and the residence of the kanima’s first victim. Even his own school. The pool where he spent so much time. The lacrosse field. The locker room. Constant reminders of what happened. He needed to leave it all behind and go somewhere no one would ever know. A place where he could hide and feel safe.

If only he knew that he would always carry a mark of his deeds with him.

The next morning, as his parents loaded their suitcases into the cab, he pulled out his phone and dialed Lydia’s number, hoping for one last reminder. But she didn’t answer. He put on his most convincingly arrogant tone. “Hey, Lydia. We’re about to head to the airport. Wish you could go with us, British girls have nothing on you. Oh, and now that you’re technically unattached, watch out for Stiles. He might start humping your leg if you’re not careful. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got fleas from McCall.” He paused a moment, wanting to say something less abrasive, but his words faltered. “I’ll try to catch you at our first layover.” He hung up, but for a moment, he just looked down at the phone, half expecting her to call back immediately. 

All through the cab ride, through the airport wait and even on the plane, he checked his phone. He traded a few texts with Danny, but always kept an eye for her call. By the time they were asked to turn off their devices, still nothing. And he had no choice.

They landed in New York. There was a two hour delay before their connecting flight started boarding. While his parents took care of their passports, he tried to call Lydia again. Still no answer. It was late now, perhaps she was in bed. “Hey. Lyds. We’re not even out of the country yet, and I’m already bored out of my mind. Got some ideas on what would make it MUCH better.” He tried to make it sound like something suggestive, but he could only think of her sitting beside him on the plane. Think of how she would feel pressed against his side, his arm around her. “But that would mean you’d need to be here. Try you again later.”

The time ticked by, and there was still no response. There was even an insulting text from Stiles, but nothing from Lydia. So he tried again. And again no answer. “About to board the plane to London. Forgot to ask if flying would have any effect on—” He glanced over at his parents. Out of earshot, but who else around could hear him? “Guess it’ll be a regular American Werewolf in London thing, huh? Maybe I’ll catch you after we land.”

The flight proved grueling. At least on him. Worse than from California to New York. Were they higher? Was the cabin pressure different? He felt restless. Every time he started to feel he could settle down, his mind started going over what he was leaving behind. The events that happened. And he became aware of just how uncomfortable everything felt again.

They landed, at last, in London. He left his parents to collect their luggage, with the lame excuse of needing to stretch his legs. He found a place where he could be alone, a quiet alcove. Turning on his phone, he found handful of text messages from random friends wishing him well on his journey. A few more from Danny. Even a voicemail from his coach. But no Lydia. Without thinking, he called her again. And again, no answer.

This time, it took some effort to find his voice. She was so far away, and he couldn’t even talk to her. “…I don’t know if I can do this without you.” It took a few more breaths before he could speak again. “Lydia, I…” He wanted to say it. With every fiber, he wanted to utter those three simple words that said all he felt about her. But his throat closed up around them, refused to let them out. “…I miss you.” Was all he managed. He ended the call and just stared down at it. 

She was so far away.

Fingers closing around the device, he let his eyes fall shut. There was no other choice. He had to do this, on his own. Without her. For her.

"Jackson?!" He heard his mom calling from where he’d left them. 

Straightening up, he quickly wiped at his cheeks, erasing the signs of the upset. “Over here!” he called back as he started back toward them. “Just making sure Danny’s gonna be able to carry the team without a competent team captain,” he offered with a smirk. As he took his suitcase from her, he could see the concern in her face, but before she could speak, he said “Let’s get out of here. Did you ever check to see if my new school has a lacrosse team?”

He walked with his parents out of the airport, headed for what would be their new home.

A new start. One that he didn’t know if he was ready for.


End file.
